


Cursed or Blessed?

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Heavily Dialogue Based, M/M, Married Fluff, Queen is of course involved, Reminiscing, The Untapped Potential of Crowley with Brian May's Hair, ineffable husbands, they're goofing it up in the Bentley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: “You know, I don’t think I ever asked you why your car is cursed.”“It’s cursed in more ways than one, you’re gonna have to get specific, angel.”(Now with added fanart at the end!)





	Cursed or Blessed?

The smooth voice of Freddie Mercury belted out the opening lines to “Fat Bottomed Girls” through the Bentley’s speakers for what was probably the six thousandth time in its lifetime. Aziraphale absentmindedly hummed along for a little while. 

“You know, I don’t think I ever asked you why your car is cursed.” 

“It’s cursed in more ways than one, you’re gonna have to get specific, angel.” 

“I mean the Queen thing. All tapes morph into Queen after, what, three weeks —“ 

“A fortnight.” 

“A fortnight, and — well, why? And how?” 

“Well.” Crowley began, although with a definite full stop at the end of his word, marking Aziraphale’s suspicion that even he didn’t know it himself. “It’s — what the Bentley wants.” 

“ _It_ does it itself?” 

“Yeah. Besides, it’s got great taste. Queen’s great. Worth listening to for the last five decades.” 

You could almost hear the reminiscing occurring in Crowley’s head. “Reminds me of a few fun times, too. Fun guys, Queen. That Brian May chap sure made an impression on the fashion around us back then. Caused me to get a perm for a bit in the eighties.” 

“Really?” Aziraphale exclaimed with true disbelief. 

“Mh-hm. Do you not remember?” 

“Erh, perhaps it was one of the years we weren’t on speaking terms,” Aziraphale’s expression drooped, then picked back up, “although, now I think about it, you had your hair all curled up that time I ran into you at a karaoke bar in Dublin. Wasn’t that ’88…” he frowned with thought, “…or ’78?” 

Crowley made a vibrating thinking noise. “Us, in a karaoke bar, in Dublin… In the eighties…” a full minute of silence(aside from Mercury going “ _I_ _seen_ _every blue eyed floozy on the way, hey_ — _”_ et cetera, _)_ went by, then Crowley sprang up, animated with an exclamation, “AH! _The Golden Panther_. Smack dab in the middle of Dublin’s high street. And the year was ’89, angel.” 

“Oooh — of course. It’s coming back to me now.” Aziraphale now had his own thinking pause. “You sang ‘Black Velvet’, I remember. Although ‘sang’ is a generous synonym.” 

“Hah. And _you_ didn’t sing any songs at all, because human ears are not built for angelic song.” 

“Oh yes, it would have melted nearly everyone in that establishment. Terrible mess of paperwork that would’ve been.” Aziraphale said with a heart-warming smile. “No, I only came to see you.” 

Now Crowley was grinning too. “You big sap. Had a crush on me, did you?” 

“Crowley, we’re married.” 

Crowley ignored him for comedic effect, “Oh, that must’ve been _so_ embarrassing for you…” Aziraphale laughed with him. 

“I could have sworn you’d had curls at some other point in time. Not your natural waves, but real curls, the type that dread into locks if not taken care of.” 

“I think you’re thinking of 1688. Had a wig for a while. Big poofy nest, really high fashion, literally.” 

“Funny, I can always recall the time-period based on your appearance in my memory.” 

“Almost always.” Crowley thought it was cute too. 

“Even that in the early 1700’s, you wore a doublet on occasion despite it being out of fashion by about a century.” Aziraphale giggled. 

“Aw, I was so fond of my doublets.” 

“What happened to them?” 

Crowley pouted briefly. “Washed them on the wrong setting.” 

But it made Aziraphale laugh more. And so Crowley did too. “They’ll fit a demon baby now.” 

The laughter died down, and Mercury faded out. However, what would have been track number eight(“Another One Bites The Dust”) on the _Best of Queen_ tape turned into a different bass intro: that of ‘Black Velvet’ by Alannah Myles. Her dulcet but sensual tones were refreshing, but Aziraphale still frowned in confusion. He looked to Crowley whose eyes had gone wild under his sunglasses. They both turned to the other. 

“How did’ye do _that_?” Crowley asked in his puzzlement. 

“I thought _you_ did _that_!” Aziraphale replied with a blush. 

“ _The sun is_ _settin_ _’ like molasses in the sky..._ ” Alannah Myles sang. 

Guilty silence from all parts except Miss Myles. 

“You were thinking it, weren’t you?” Crowley asked with less hostility this time. 

“Yes, maybe.” Aziraphale admitted. “But I didn’t mean to channel my memories through your stereo.” 

“No, no, it’s — alright. Nice, even.” Crowley mumbled. 

“Like you with your doublets, I am a bit fond of that memory.” 

“Yeah, yeah —” 

“I remember how you really put yourself into that performance, using the whole stage —” 

Crowley’s hands dismissed the angel, though it was futile, “Yeah, I know —” 

“I was even briefly hypnotized by those tight trousers you were wearing —” 

Crowley sputtered with embarrassment. “Alright, alright! Save it for … later.” 

The Bentley acquired a new taste for country-rock music that night. 

_Pictured above: Bri and an avid fan_.

(Yes, I did sort of forge Brian May's signature, please don't tell him.)

**Author's Note:**

> just a bit of goofin'
> 
> Leave a comment if you feel! I love a comment as always.


End file.
